Wilde Princess
by Snowmaiden Freya
Summary: Hell's Princess Rewrite. Sometimes, things happen out of your control. Sometimes they happen because it's your deepest, darkest desire. When born of a very magical line, you're going to have to accept that you can't lie to your heart. So what do you do? You take life by the horns and ream it. A Fem!Harry fic; Metamorphmagus and Femslash. Rated M for explicit content.
1. Prologue I

**Corvus Studios presents:**

**Wild Princess: A Black in the Making**

⦕**A Harry Potter story...of sorts⦖**

**A/N: New readers can ignore this preface. Have fun reading and leave a review or follow if you enjoyed what you read!**

**For the old readers of Hell's Princess, I decided to change quite a bit in relation to what was previously written so far for this story. I've spent quite a bit of fiddling with new ideas. Some work, some were scrapped. Some are in a cycle of revision. However much it changes the course of this fanfic, I'm not sure yet. One thing however, is certain; some things you may not like and some you may enjoy, including our protagonist's name, her nature and etc. Well, you'll just have to find out the rest!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter & associated rights; those belong to JK Rowling**

* * *

_**Prologue**_

Every child pretends of dragons, knights, faeries and everything fantastical in between. Magical beings that grant wishes, powerful wizened mages commanding tremendous powers that could decimate armies. But once a person is no longer a child, they are told that much of what they had believed in when they were younger does not exist; that is was all fiction and amusing stories for entertainment. But what the majority of the world's population knows, is not quite true.

Magic is oh so very real.

Circling the globe, one with quick wit, a keen sense of logic and and an open mind, a person without the Gift might just be able to catch the merest glimpse of a magical person or rarer still, a creature of fantastical beliefs. In pocket communities of nearly every country, magical folk can be found. Witches, wizards, vampires and ever so much more.

Lily and James Potter are a one of a kind couple. And this isn't merely because they are witch & wizard. While that factor alone separates them from other couples, it isn't the defining trait of their relationship. Since they were eleven, the two had known each other upon starting at a magical boarding school in the highlands of Scotland. And unlike faerie tales, twasn't love at first sight.

Vivacious and rather bright, Lily had detested Potter for the first six years of knowing the man. Despite one was a Pureblood and the other was a first generation witch, they had fallen deeply in love. Since the war began, they fell even deeper for each other as they went through thick and thin. They had wed and thought the other of the highest order.

Lilian Potter nee Evans gave an annoyed huff as she slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her slumbering husband. The man whom held her adoring gaze, gave a groan miraculously did not wake. Quickly, she fixed the covers and tiptoed out of the room.

It was the twentieth time she had taken a pregnancy test over the last four months that showed a negative. Over dozens of times had she made love to James in an effort to get pregnant. Yet every next morning, her detection charms always turned up negative. And each failed attempt was more disheartening than the last.

Over the last two years, she had continually researched into this infertility between her and James. Whenever her husband was out with the other Marauders, Lily had sought out different cultures, even delving into those of magical creatures. Unfortunately, neither the veela, merfolk nor the dwarves had an answer to her barren womb.

So once again, here she was in her study with parchment and ink next to a stack of various books. The topics were all potions and charms related. She hoped that this midnight jaunt to research would give her any insight. She was beginning to become desperate.

More than once did she chew on the nib of her quill, unconsciously getting ink all over the lower portion of her face. The lone candle lit was burning merrily while the copper haired witch attempted to sort out her issue.

A warm pair of arms drew the redhead from her thoughts. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of old leather, cinnamon and pine. It wasn't cologne, just her husband's natural scent. Magic does curious things but Lily rarely questioned the good things it brought her. After all, it had brought her and James together. She just needed to search for a little bit longer before it would reveal the way to giving her what she desired.

"Knut for your thoughts love?"

"It's a penny for your thoughts. An American muggle expression." Shaking her head, Lily said, "Go back to bed you toerag." She said that affectionately. "I'll be right with you after I finish jotting down my thoughts. This problem that I've been working on has been nagging at me for some time. It's like every time the answer is just out of reach, I end up with more questions or I get sent back to square one."

He gave her a kiss, "Don't be too long, hon. Sleep is important too. Besides, you did say Pandora was coming over for tea on Thursday." She smiled at him wistfully, hiding her pain inside. She had yet to find a cure for her infertility. It was driving her nuts on top of the shame of being unable to give James an heir. But she wouldn't give up, not when motherhood was so close.

* * *

The next few days, the brightest mundane-born witch had continued to pore over the entirety of the Potter Library in an attempt to seek out the key to curing her barren womb and restore her fertility. If it hadn't been for the war, she would have broadened her horizons and went to other countries for a cure. But everyone on the offensive unit was to lay low for a few months and thus Lily was contained to England. She was manic even, to the point where her research of all hours of the day was beginning to worry her husband. But James didn't pry, only sending his support despite his ignorance.

After a week straight of delving into her research, it appeared she may have found the key. An old journal she had nicked from Fleamont Potter If one made an offering of certain ingredients on a full moon, the magic of nature would heal her and allow her to have a child. Which is why she was sneaking about the woods of Godric's Hollow.

Stonehenge would have been a more effective location, but she didn't have the luxury to apparate far away and alone. Voldemort was still active and gaining more followers every week, spouting his Pureblood propaganda. Even going out of the country was out of the question; without a visa, France, Germany and other European countries would see her as a spy and she didn't have time. She wanted to get this ritual done with as soon as possible.

There was no way she would tell anyone she was infertile, not even her best friends Alice Longbottom and Pandora Lovegood. She loved them dearly, but not enough to drag them into the bowels of the woods in the middle of the night.

Leaves crunched underfoot as Lily reached a vine covered clearing. Sweat dripped from her forehead. Even at night, the humidity was high. July, she had dubbed as the month where hell came to Earth.

Making sure she was alone in the forgotten grove, Lily began to set up the ritual. One that came from a time before circles became mandatory. In the days of eld, and before Merlin had become an iconic legend, there were the druids who secluded themselves in the forests and wilderness to hone their craft. The ancients who freely interacted with the fae on a daily basis. Where man and faery could dwell together in peace. This one was designed to hopefully request a sylvan or a nymph to grant her a cure.

Within a crevice of an ancient dolmen, was a hand carved wooden bowl with an offering of freshly picked roses nestled inside. An effigy of a small child and a small number of other symbolic objects had joined the tribute.

Atop of the metholithic stone slab, a bouquet of dried sage, lavender, wild vanilla and patchouli was lit for incense. And then Lily prayed; she silently begged and pleaded for someone - anyone who could help her.

Tendrils of smoke twisted and curled skyward. Grasping and thrashing in an attempted to stay earthbound. Tongues of flame licked the tribute, devouring the helpless offering. A thick, but pleasant aroma filled the grove as the herbs smoldered.

A few minutes passed and nothing significant had happened. Her research into friendly spirits had guaranteed one would appear. Nearly ten minutes later, the herbs were almost entirely ash now. With a forlorn expression on her features, she began to clean up the site. When she reached to pick up the bowl, a strange voice commanded her to stop. Looking up, Lily found that her prayer had been answered.

Instead of the typical woodland spirit (usually in the form of a dryad or nymph), a far more elusive creature had appeared to answer the call. Appearing out of thin air, was a rather tall female figure clothed in finely woven silk garments. Snowy white locks woven into extravagant braids that fell to her hips. Pointed ears that protruded out a bit further than her own. And finally, Lily noticed a pair of delicate wings that appeared a cross between a butterfly and a wasp's were nestled on her back, neatly folded. Translucent but with a tinge of blue, green and teal swirling as though painted with a watercolor brush.

"I have heard your plight," The winged woman said with a thick Irish accent, "and so I shall grant this boon should you succeed in the task I ask of you. Harvest the seed whence your child is to be borne of. On the day we know as Samhain, deliver it to me. I will need a few other ingredients, as well as your blood; that however will need to be drawn fresh of the day of the ritual. On that night, your wish of having a child shall come true."

"May I...may I know thy name?"

A smirk rose on the woman's lips, "Names hold power, little doe. But thou hast called me upon this night. I am feeling generous, so yes. I will tell you." She bent forward and whispered into the redhead's ear, "Titania."

"Queen of the Fae?" gasped Lily, bright green eyes wide with awe, bowing in respect. The fair skinned woman gave a mischievous wink before disappearing, leaving a small mist of sparkles. A small wrinkled slip of parchment was discovered in her hand when she unclenched it. In an elegant, flowing script was a small list of exotic ingredients.

All that remained was a glimmer of hope in Lily's eyes.

* * *

The following days passed and James hadn't suspected a thing. After a romantic date in, she had given her husband a spiked butterbeer and a shot of Ogden's Finest whiskey. An hour of Wizarding radio and he was out like a light. After she had lain the wizard in bed, Lily wanked him to orgasm, capturing every last drop in a crystal phial.

In all honesty, she could have just let the Marauder cum on her face and scoop it into a vial. Of course that thought hadn't occurred to her until she had a relevant epiphany. Regardless, she sealed the treasure with both an unbreakable charm and a stasis charm.

On the days leading up to the hallowed day, Lily had secluded herself into her studies. Since the first encounter with the fae, she needed to know more. With as many books of relevancy, the copper haired witch began her research on the fabled fairy queen. There was no way she would go through with it without being as prepared as she could. Desperate for a child, but not foolish.

On October 31st, Lily Potter returned to the same clearing she had accidentally summoned the Queen of Faeries. This time, there was no need to make an offering. The Queen of Fae had shown up entirely on her own.

The mortal witch didn't remember what Titania wore last time, but much less provocative than her apparel today. Rather, this time, the faery queen wore a dress straight out of an Arthurian Legend. It had a soft, subtle shimmer as if it were made of velvet.

"You brought the seed of your mate?" came her query, the first words she spoke this meeting. "And the other ritual components?"

Nodding, Lily fished the phial from the inside pocket of her robes and proffered it to the Fairy Queen. Said magical being gently took it and stepped back a few feet. Some number of pixies with their cute little dresses jabbed her exposed forearms, cackling maniacally at the (minor) bloodletting. The redhead had muttered some complaints under her breath, watching the droplets of her vitae coalesce into a hovering orb. The dark crimson sphere weighed with imaginary currents as it kept its shape.

Taking the freshly harvested blood, imaginary brushes painted archaic runes and sigils even Lily didn't know. They hovered in the air, awaiting on standby. Next, Titania opened the stasis sealed vial of the human's husband's seed. Instead of inserting it the muggle way, the semen floated up and congealed into a small, viscous ivory sphere. Incomprehensible chanting could be heard from faceless servants as the pearl leveled with the Fairy Queen's abdomen. When it was at the same height as the female creature's womb, it phased through her dress and skin.

Watching the fae woman doing the bizarre ritual, the muggleborn witch's face contorted into worry. Then she was trying to prevent tears from escaping to no avail. Soon enough, the salty tears came in full force, staining the redhead's cheeks.

Tilting her head, Titania asked as she stepped closer, her bare feet not even making contact with the earthy floor, "What is wrong, daughter of Eve?"

Sniffling, the Mistress of Charms sobbed, "I feel horrible for going behind James' back. What kind of devoted wife am I?"

"Worry not dear Lily," crooned the Fae queen as she stroked the crying witch's copper locks. "With your offered vitae, unknowingly provided, the husband's seed, your child is growing inside me as we speak. Upon her birth, she shall arrive in the night."

Sniffling, the witch wiped away her tears, "Thank you. Thank you so much. I am forever in your debt, Lady Titania. If there's anything you ever need, I shall do it. The gift of motherhood has been the only thing I have ever desire. Should the fae turn against those that shut them away, I shall fight as your loyal retainer. Should you grow bored, I willingly would become your plaything. I am but a human woman, but your will is my hand. Speak it and I shall obey."

With a warm smile, the silver haired faery said, "Your generosity is a diamond amongst the worn riverstones of humanity. War is something I wish to never take part in any more in my life despite the wrongdoings of mortal man. But I do have a little nugget of information to impart with you before I depart."

Looking up, Lily asked, "A-and what is that, Your highness?"

"Your child will be a special little girl, of that I have no doubt. Any latent abilities in your line may come to appear, even ones once thought extinct. She may be born a boy; James has powerful genes, that much I know. I can tell just by the signature of his magic in the sample you brought me. Males have a higher rate to be born, at least by magical standards. Even as we speak, your child forms within me. But as she will be birthed by fae, the wild magic can possibly change her in more than one way. Our magic is so much different than humankind, but it has happened before. A mortal child birthed by a fae surrogate in exchange for service, money or other things.

"These alterations vary subject to subject. Some appear as a normal human. Others have fae features such as wings or pointed ears. Sometimes they become more primal than mortal. If there is even a hint of something inhuman in her, you can more than bet it could make an appearance. Changelings and fae-touched often form eccentricities that can range from mild OCD to schizophrenia. So keep an eye out for that, but I have digressed a bit too much. In the end, they all end up as females. You should choose a girl name for her besides whatever your husband has picked out," finished the empress of fae. An addendum she added; "I will have a fairy name for her whence it is time for her to rejoin the fae."

Shaking her head, the mortal woman said, "I will love her regardless of how she turns out. My best friend is a seer and she's pretty out there, so no worries about me not accepting my child for who they are. Boy or girl, my child will be the most beautiful child in the entire world!"

Titania smiled at the heartwarming words the human witch spoke. "Glad you feel that way, mortal flower. However, it is time to conclude the ritual."

"You mean...we're not done yet?"

"Of course not, Lily. We still need to put the zygote into your womb," answered Titania kindly. The tone was muted with the mischievous smirk.

The redheaded witch gave a small yelp in surprise as she was levitated into the air without warning. And just as abruptly as she was lifted off her feet, Lily's clothing began to take itself off. The buttons on her muggle blouse unbuttoned and her belt was unhooked. Then the rest of her clothing flew off, leaving her very naked.

Looking down as her clothes folded themselves into a neat pile, she cried, "What the hell?"

With a playful chortle, the queen of faeries replied, "I would have asked you to disrobe so we could commence. This however just seems more... satisfying."

With a grumble, Lily sat cross legged in the air above the ancient dolmen. She gave a resignative sigh. "Well, I suppose we should get this over with. What happens next? Do I need to do anything?"

The satchel of potions ingredients flapped open with an unseen gale. The bizarre arrangement of objects hovered around the redhead. Some of them had been extremely difficult to procure. One at a time, they melted into a fine dust or a paste and joined the blood orb to create an amalgamation of essences. It now resembled ink of a vivid Byzantium purple. With a soft breeze from the fae's lips, the blood-ink mixture merged with the hovering runes. A gesture from the same woman had those magical runes paint themselves onto the redhead's exposed skin. The sheer magic involved sent a shiver down the human's spine.

Staccato tones among the dulcet chanting in the clearing had slowly been increasing in volume, rounding into a palpable crescendo.

A glowing greenish purple ball of magic phased through Titania's stomach and slowly began to float towards Lily. Said woman's legs snapped open and her arms restrained in a faux crucifixion. Unlike what had happened with the queen, the magical orb instead shot up between the witch's legs and through her canal. Down the shallow tunnel and into the womb. A cry of pain escaped Lily's lips as her eyes widened in surprise.

Just as quickly as it had happened, the copper haired witch was sent to the leafy bushes below with a little crash which had her spouting a plethora of curses that would make a sailor blush. Scowling at the fairy that was laughing and rolling around in midair.

"What the hell?! You just sent me assnaked on the ground! Explain yourself!"

It took a few minutes for the faery queen to stop her giggling and tittering laughter before she said, "Sorry, sorry, couldn't help myself from playing a prank."

"During a serious and important ritual? You're just as bad as James and Sirius were back during my school days. Are all fae like this?"

With a dismissive wave, she said, "You're fine! A bruised ass and ego is nothing to get upset over. Anyways, duty's done and it's time for both of us to go home." As she vanished, Titania's voice echoed in the clearing, "When the child is born, bring them to me. I shall have a blessing to bestow upon the babe."

Exhausted, Lily could do naught else but nod silently to herself and begin the trek back to Godric's Hollow.

* * *

A month after Lily had begun to show physical signs of pregnancy, she couldn't take the nagging guilt in her gut. So she pulled her husband aside one evening after a home cooked meal.

James looked serious as they took to the parlour. The curtains were drawn and a tray had been set up with varying bottles of alcohol, showing that this was no lighthearted discussion they would be engaging in.

"What was the price?"

Shaking her head, Lily asked, "I'm not sure what you mean. Elucidate?"

James groaned. His wife was a genius and almost assuredly the brightest witch of their generation, but damn could she be daft sometimes. The father to be cleared his throat. "The price, Lily. I know you took my great grandfather's journal. I studied it too once upon a time. Anyone who deals with fae always pay a price, one way or another."

Silence reigned over the manor parlour while Lily reflected on what her husband had just said. She in all her intelligence, had made a mistake. Just because she had found out the journal and the secret about fairies granting wishes, she knew she should have researched further.

Lily suddenly sobbed into her husband's shoulder, clinging tightly. In between heaving bouts of tears, the first generation witch sniffed, "I-I'm so sorry James. I was such a fool. I...I should have just come to you..."

Wiping his partner's puffy eyes with a handkerchief, the messy haired wizard replied, "It's alright, Tigerlily. I know you didn't mean to. Just-"

"I fucked up, alright!" she wailed, another cascade of tears spilling down her freckle-less cheeks. "You don't need to sugarcoat it for me."

With a low sigh, James finally said, "I know the fae bargain wasn't your only attempt to cure your infertility. Please be honest with me, sweetheart. What other methods have you tried? Who else have you sought out?"

So Lily spent the remainder of the evening and into the wee hours of the morning explaining everything that had happened on her quest to find a solution to her inability to have children. She spoke of her first attempt with muggle methods since wizarding fertility potions seemed to keep failing. In vitro fertilization had also failed and the attending specialist had ran a few tests and sadly informed her that she was barren. A healer from St Mungo's had given her an extended bio-scan which revealed that a dark curse was responsible for preventing a successful conception. Likely a Dolohov special when the Potter's had last crossed wands with the Death Eaters. So Lily had dove into research with all the books on potions, rituals and non-humans who could help her conceive.

No matter how many potions she brewed herself, or that she collaborated on with Severus Snape, none brought her the desired effects although some had made her rather ill. She always bounced back and continued her research with invigorated fervor.

As a rune and charms specialist, she tried seeking out all sorts of rituals that would heal the womb, strengthen the body and more. Some were borderline illegal due to the use of blood magic but she cared not. Lily's singular directive was to have a child. Yet even the ancient Sumerian fertility rituals did absolutely nothing. So she was forced to start truly thinking outside the box.

This led her to seek out hidden enclaves of inhumans and magical creatures. She sought the curative elixirs brewed by the lamia of Gorgon Isle; the healing rituals of the nomadic Kazra, the veela sex magic and finally of course, her interactions with the queen of faeries. Suffice to say, Lily Potter had been a busy bee.

* * *

James was over the moon, jumping with excitement like a five year old in a candy shop. Today was the day his son was supposed to come into the world. He was beyond enthralled at the prospect of raising a little boy with his beloved wife.

Twelve months. That's how long Lily's pregnancy had been going. Nine months plus three extra. Little Harry was a stubborn little child, refusing to come out at the normal gestation mark. Worse, was that their unborn son was rapidly siphoning mana from his mother and even sometimes from others in close proximity to Lily. Accidental magic occasionally causing certain things to change colors, levitate and the occasional banishing charm.

But now he was ready. Which is why they were in Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Of course he was kicked out of the room for cracking jokes to his wife who was most certainly in agony. The attending Healer told him he couldn't go back in until the actual birth began.

Lily Marie Potter nee Evans went into labor at nine PM on the 30th. It wasn't until the wee hours on the 31st did Hadrian James Ashley Potter arrive to the waking world. Those hours had been excruciating for the copper haired witch. As tired and exhausted as she was, Lily was ecstatic to hold her newborn son.

The Potter's closest friends had arrived an hour after Harry had been born. Sirius Orion Black and Remus John Lupin had been named Harry's godfather's as per the ritual oath. Alice Longbottom and Amelia Bones had been dubbed her child's godmothers.

0oo_Wilde_Princess_exe_oo0

Whence Lily was no longer bedridden, she and James hiked down to the familiar grove where the copper haired witch first conceived. They told no one of where they had gone off to. Not a soul knew they were consorting with dubious creatures and this way, it was for the best.

"This is the child you boasted of having a hand in its making?" came an unfamiliar voice from the center of the grove.

Both James and Lily gave a start, turning back to back and drawing their wands.

Materializing in the air before the couple, Titania chided to the unseen threat, "Now now my good friend, don't stand there invisible. You're making the mortals nervous."

A purple haired woman wearing a kimono stood behind them in a relaxed stance. However, this was no ordinary person for this individual had peculiar features. There were no visible human ears; instead, there were a pair of tall fox ears that twitched ever so slightly to any sound made. Then there was the sleek vulpine tail that swayed behind the woman.

Extending a hand, the messy haired wizard said, "Pleased to meet the being responsible for giving us a child. James Charlus Potter at your service." The Fairy Queen shook the offered hand and the human introduced himself to the other woman in the clearing that was unknown to them.

"Charming," mused the fox eared woman, taking the proffered hand and shook it with her own petite one. She bowed back in her own cultural greeting and replied, "Nureha Ishikawa. I hail from the land of the rising sun."

Introductions out of the way, Titania said, "Where is the wee babe?"

Gingerly, Lily unwrapped the sling from around her body which help the infant Harry to her bosom. She cautiously handed her the winged woman. "Here he is, your majesty."

Cradling the days old child, Titania cooed softly as her friend sidled up. "What a gorgeous child. I'm glad I had the opportunity to help create such beautiful life. Your thoughts, Nureha?"

Said vixen replied, "I must concur, he is a beautiful child. Well, for a human." She gave a soft chuckle. "Well, we don't have long. Shall we get to the blessings, old friend?"

"Yes, my clever fox," responded Titania. "I shall go first, then you with yours."

_Born of the flesh of man, essence of fairy, flourish under the fifth astral moon. _

_Fly freer than the winds beneath thy wings, swim swifter than the oceans tides, righteous anger of the flame and a will sturdier than the strongest diamond._

_Princess Nuala of Bethmoora, heiress to the throne, future queen to the season's courts._

_Whence the time is right, you will resume your form; the trials three, pass them and secure thine future._

_Balance of Darkness and Light for neither exists without the other._

_The true queen of magic. So mote it be.*_

As the last phoneme was uttered, a soft glow of light emitted from the slumbering child. It worked. Not that the humans had understood what she said; her blessing had been spoken in the old tongue. One, the younger generations of fae had not seen let alone heard.

The fox woman didn't hesitate to begin her part as soon as the infant was gently placed into her arms.

_第__7__月__31__日目_

_翡翠の瞳。_

_男の息子、妖精の娘。_

_一日一緒に、世界の間で分割。_

_キツネの炎、一つの緑色のもの、紫色のもの。私の千年はあなたのものになります。あなたと私は一つです。カラスが東に飛んで胸が上がると、目覚めます。_

Like the first blessing, a soft light was emitted around the child. This time, it was a mini light show of shadowy purple and a life-giving green. Nureha panted as the ritual took its toll on her. She handed the baby back to the human couple and backed off. She was forced to hold onto the faery queen who returned a concerned look.

"Will you two be able to visit?"

Shaking her head, the faery queen replied, "Despite my desire to see the child I helped create grow up, the entrance to the realm of the fae is locked. The humans forbade interaction with us because they thought we were stealing children and replacing them with changelings. That practice fell out of fashion almost four hundred years ago. Still, we were banished from the moores and the inner lands. We, the fae are held prisoner in our own sidhe and forests. The curse shall not be weak enough for us to freely come and go for another ten or twenty years."

With a frown, Lily said, " I'll try to help break the curse-"

"Hark, my time grows short..." said the fairy queen with a weary sigh."Alas, farewell, children of Adam and Eve..." A pained visage suddenly spread across the winged woman's face, halting her speech.

Before their very eyes, the Faery Queen was sucked into a vortex in a violent display, leaving the two magical humans gaping in horror. Neither had noticed the fox woman fading into oblivion and her essence seemingly dissipating...

* * *

**A/N: Unconventional, yes, but I was forced to split the prologue in half otherwise it'd end up being a full chapter length which defeats the purpose of a prologue.**

***I tried to translate Titania's blessing into Tengwar but when pasted here, it either showed up as the original english text or as a garbled mess of gibberish. Shame these browsers don't support fantasy scripts. **

**Nureha's blessing in romaji goes: ****Dai nana tsuki sanichi-nichi-me hisui no hitomi. Otoko no musuko, yōsei no musume. Tsuitachi issho ni, sekai no ma de bunkatsu. Kitsune no honō, hitotsu no midoriiro no mono, murasakiiro no mono. Watashi no Chitose wa anata no mono ni narimasu. Anatatowatashi wa hitotsudesu. Karasu ga azuma ni tonde mune ga agaru to, mezamemasu.**

**I don't know Japanese myself, so I'm going out on a limb to say it's a very rough translation. The English I had for it is here: **

**Seventh Month. Thirty first day.**

**Eyes of Jade.**

**Son of man, daughter of fairy.**

**Split between worlds, one day together.**

**A fox's flame, one green one purple. My thousand years become yours. You and I, are one. When the crow flies east and the breast rises, we shall awaken.**

**I know it was a sudden departure for the kitsune and the faery queen, but hopefully I'll find a way to explain it later in the story or I may leave it as a loose end. Who knows what madness grows in my mind... **


	2. Prologue II

**A/N: Here's part 2 of the prologue**

* * *

_**Prologue II**_

_**Halloween of 1980**_

"Sometimes, I wonder if Albus has his head screwed on properly."

Lily chuckled at her husband's comment. "Well he is a bit barmy. I suspect he's always been a bit of a nutter. So what is it that has you saying that this time?"

With a long, drawn out sigh, James replied, "It's this whole prophecy business the old goat told us about. That Harry is going to be the one to end Voldemort once and for all. I mean I've never really held any stock in divination whatsoever, but that our little guy is destined to end Tom? I'm not buying into that load of bullshit. And if I know Frank and Alice, neither will they."

Resting a hand on top of her beloved's, Lily said, "Whether we believe it or not is of no consequence. Pandora always reminds me that a prophecy can be self-fulfilling despite if we think it's fake. So any amount of caution is necessary. That's why we went into hiding. Even still, it's very possible our trust was misplaced."

"You think Peter would rat us out? No pun intended."

Potter's wife rolled her eyes at the play on words. "Well no offense, but he's a bit...spineless. If he's discovered to be the real secret keeper, he'd spill it without even being crucio'd. Face it James, he's a terrible friend. Sirius thinks Albus changed who our secret keeper was so that we would definitely die if the fidelius fails."

"At least Harry will go to Sirius, Amelia and the Longbottoms. I know they'll treat him right. Well, Padfoot will probably spoil him," mused Lily. "I'm just sad we may never get to see him grow up."

Prongs said, "We already said our goodbyes to Harry in case we don't survive. There's a chance we'll be discovered. That's why we wrote our will and put all those wards and stuff on our son."

"I know what I said James. Four times since we heard Dumbledore tell us that damn prophecy. Even if I'm ready to die, I can't help it. It's just a maternal instinct. I worry about him. I mean I've already made my peace that we're going to die tonight. But I can't help but have a nagging feeling that he'll need me wherever he's going if we don't make it," whined Lily.

Abruptly, there was a low crash from the level below; probably someone breaking in. The couple seemed unalarmed, having expected something of the sort. After all, they had already prepared for the worst the best they could.

In strode a tall wizard shrouded in black robes, bone white wand gripped in his hand. A man whose once good looks had fled the deeper he had immersed himself into the dark arts. His pale skin held an unhealthily waxy and reptilian complexion with bloodshot eyes sunken into their sockets.

Wand already drawn, James Potter growled, "Voldemort! I knew you would be here. Looks like Peter sold us out after all. You, get out!"

"James!"

Said man shouted, "Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off the best I can. I'll try to rejoin you later."

"Now now, Potter, why not stand aside and let me painlessly end Harry's life. There's no need to spill more pure blood than has already been tonight. Your mudblood wife on the other hand, I will spare so long as she stays out of my way. In fact, if you give me the brat, I'd be willing to accept the two of you into my ranks for such loyal behavior."

Snarling beastially, the dark haired wizard shouted as he fired a bone-breaker curse, "NEVER!"

"How 'noble' of you, Potter. What a waste of magical blood your death will be," sneered Riddle. "If only you had joined me when you had the chance. All you needed to do was give me the boy. I would have spared you and your mudblood wife. But you two have defied me for the last time!"

James snarled as he threw a borderline dark spell, "Fuck off, monster!"

The dark lord swatted the curse aside as though it had been a suicidal fly. James tried to follow up with a wicked combo, but every spell, hex and curse he threw bounce off Tom Riddle's shield. They dueled for a hot minute before an exhausted Potter was felled by the killing curse.

Kicking aside the open-eyed corpse of the wizard he had defeated, the reptilian figured mage sighed, "Such a waste. Too bad he was too far deep into Dumbledore's pocket. If only these fools would think for themselves. I might be a bit of a hypocrite with my own recruitment methods. But if fools want to believe mere words, that's on them. Pawns are just that, pawns. At least I don't hide behind a fake facade like him. I suppose I should go kill that boy now."

Finished with his unheard monologue, the Dark Lord Voldemort stalked up the creaky wooden stairs of the cottage of Godric's Hollow. There were only two rooms on the second floor. One was obviously a bathroom as seen by the tile in the open door. A quick cast showed there were two living lifeforms in the other room - a nursery. Instead of trying the knob like any normal human, the self styled Voldemort simply blasted the door off its hinges.

Inside, Riddle found the mudblood redhead sitting in a chair next to the crib that house the target of his conquest. Odd. he had expected to be met with a wand jabbed at him with defiance. Instead, the woman was sitting there with no weapons in sight. Perhaps a diplomatic approach before violence.

"You could have saved your husband's life if only you had given up your brat to me," he sneered. "I'd rather not kill you but I won't allow anything to get in my way!" He sent the fatal one hit curse towards the toddler standing up in the crib.

"NOT HARRY!" cried the copper haired witch, throwing herself in the path of the sickly green curse.

It had collided with her midsection, instantly killing Lily Potter, whisking her soul unto the Great Beyond.

"Again, foolish children. Snape will be disappointed. Oh well. Shouldn't be too difficult to find another potion's master," mused the evil man. "Now little one, this isn't personal; it's just business. And it won't hurt a bit."

Raising his wicked white wand, Tom Riddle slashed downwards, sending a bolt of death at the infant.

With a bright iridescent flash of light, little Harry was shielded just in time for the killing curse rebounded on its caster. The fatal curse didn't outright kill the dark wizard; instead, it forced the damaged spirit out of its mortal coil and disintegrating Voldemort's body. The resulting magical feedback resulted in an explosion, taking half of the cottage with it.

* * *

The Dursleys of Number Four Privet Drive like the rest of the neighborhood, believe they're normal. Yet in the wake of seeming normality is abnormality.

However recently, queer things had been going on as of late. Sightings of owls appearing during the daytime, strangely dressed people passing through in public areas and more. Most of it had been in London or it's outskirts. But some things have also happened here in Surrey.

Since the early morning, a tabby cat had been prowling around Number Four. A most unusual behavior for any feline. Most would not give the seemingly perfect home a second glance. It was almost...human in a way.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching. He appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. Or rather, out of thin air. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This...odd man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known." He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement.

Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone.

Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked. "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," sniffed Professor McGonagall with a little hurt pride.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall snorted angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls . . . shooting stars. . . . Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too — well — noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? What finally stopped him?" It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer. "What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. Rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head.

Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James . . . I can't believe it . . . I didn't want to believe it . . . Oh, Albus . . ."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know . . . I know . . ." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. they're saying he tried to kill the Potters' only child, Hadrian. But — he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little lad. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Hadrian Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone." Dumbledore nodded glumly. "It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done . . . all the people he's killed . . . he couldn't kill a little child? It's just astounding . . . of all the things to stop him . . . but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore secretively though masked with faux sorrow. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it.

It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean — you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Hadrian Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future — there will be books written about the lass — every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding the Potter heiress underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it — wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got the wee tyke, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was fl yin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. "Is that where — ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss when, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it — Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door.

He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir." Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

Minerva could not contain herself anymore. So she knelt in front of the basket that contained the child of the recently departed Potters. From an inner pocket in her robes, the strict woman tucked a necklace with a cat pendant around the child's neck. It was a good luck charm enchanted to be impervious to the normal dangers of precious metals and jewelry. The cat's eye was a small little emerald. It had been meant to be a gift for Lily as congratulations on a successful pregnancy.

But it just as well belonged to little Harry Potter. Even if it was a girly trinket, it would be something of his mother's to treasure.

"Come along now, Minerva. I do believe there is a bottle of wine with my name on it. I'm most anxious to get back to it," came Dumbledore's chiding tone.

Minerva stood up and nodded. "Yes, of course. I was just applying a warming charm on the lad's blanket.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. "Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked the little intro. Okay, I admit, it's a bit longer than a normal prologue, but that's beside the point. Obviously you know I nicked a bit from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Anyways, next chapter the story truly begins.**


	3. Chapter 1

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for this chapter to be released. That's due to some indecision on my part. I was originally going to do something else, but had to rewrite a section here and split the chapter. I hope y'all enjoy.**

**PS: Consider this the real first chapter**

* * *

_**Chapter I**_

Morning came too early for Harry Potter's likening. Over the last year, he had really gotten used to sleeping in instead of being up at five AM. His eyes opened to face the same boring ceiling he'd woken up to for the past three years or so. At the very least, he no longer slept under the stairs.

Today, there was a feeling in his gut that was odd. Something was different. Very different. Almost a sensation of foreboding that would put anyone on edge. A bad day or monumental change? There was only one way to find out, and that was to get his lazy ass out of bed.

So when he had sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, he realized through his bleariness, his feet didn't touch the floor. Did he get shorter while he was asleep? He didn't think he was so starved that he could actually shrink.

Standing up, Harry felt a heaviness laying on his chest. It wasn't quite the soreness he got from working out or doing the chores. But a very unfamiliar weight nonetheless. Then something else besides his height felt...lighter. Grabbing the old pair of glasses from his nightstand, he placed them on his nose. It was fuzzy. When he went to wipe the lens on the blanket. But the moment they were in his hands, the blurriness had gone away. He set them down, shaking his head. Maybe magic had finally corrected his vision. Either way, he could see perfectly fine without glasses.

Halfway to the bathroom, the raven haired mage nearly tripped on his too long pajama bottoms. A few unsavory words later, he had made it to the upstairs bathroom. Just as Harry was about to pull his pjs down to pee, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Instead of a young man, was a girl who looked like she was sixteen. She was a little shorter than Harry had been. If he had to estimate, he'd say she was a couple inches shy of five feet. Her appearance was rather regal in the features department. Adorning her head were black and copper tresses that sank to her shapely rear. Hips had flared out, making them much more girly. Her arms were thinner than Harry's and hands much more slender. The nails mimicked a basic manicure. Being topless, there was nothing covering her impressive bust. Her breasts were rather large, and by his estimation, around a big C to a moderate D cup. The starkness of her green eyes was the only thing that gave him any familiarity of who she was supposed to be. Already thick lashes had lengthened elegantly to what a noble woman's would be preened to.

She then glanced at her nose and noticed how petite, and straight it was compared to the nose that she had broken and injured so many times as she had been beaten by her uncle. It was perfectly centered on her face and aligned with no awkward bends or arches that hindered her looks.

Then, she finally glanced down to her mouth. Rich cherry hued lips held a prim appearance. They were small and delicate with no source of dryness or ruptures to be found anywhere. This urged Harry to lick his lips; however, she immediately regretted it as she blushed at how seductive and sexually cute her reflection looked as she did this and instantly brushed her lips with the back of her left hand, absorbing any wetness that was there.

After brushing her hand aside, she continued to gaze at her entire face as a whole. She noticed her head was more petite, her chin was more v shaped, her face resembling the outline of a heart, her neck more slender, and her skin fair and smooth, missing any form of acne or blemish that could hinder her perfection.

Every movement he made, she copied his actions to a 'T' so very unnervingly. When he had let his lounge pants drop, Harry gasped. Between his legs was not the familiar little Mr Happy, but a hairless mound instead. His skin was smooth except where there was a slit that opened to reveal a vagina at a very light touch. The petals were a light pink and turned darker as he looked at the feminine organ in the mirror.

Immediately he pulled up his trainers as realisation dawned on Harry Potter: he had been turned into a girl! One hundred percent female!

Upon receiving that epiphany, his hair flared to a bright blue tinged with bronze. Of course this freaked him out further, turning his hair a mixed shade of silver and orange. Anxiety welled up painfully in his chest. Harry has never seen a naked woman before let alone touched one. Now in the span of five minutes, he's done both.

Unable to go forth with taking a shower, Harry retreated back to his bedroom.

Hedwig was sitting restlessly in her cage, unperturbed by the change in her master- mistress. Unlocking the metal corral, Harry let her out. She ruffled her feathers now that the gorgeous avian had more room and began smoothing her snowy plumage down.

"I know girl, you're the most beautiful owl in the world." Said familiar preened at the compliments and gave Harry's ear a gentle wizard turned witch grabbed a wrinkled sheet of parchment and began scratching down a message.

_Dear Padfoot,_

_First off, I still can't believe I have a godfather and that you're actually real. Like, really real. I kept having horrible dreams that you had your soul sucked out or didn't want me. I mean, I grew up knowing I was just a freak until I learned I had magic. And until Hagrid told me, I was told my parents were lazy, no good drunks according to my uncle. And that they died in a car crash rather being victims of a brutal murder._

_And that's not even the worst the Dursleys have done to me. I didn't know what my name was until I hit primary school. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always call me Boy or Freak. Not once have I heard them call me Harry and it's so frustrating. Living with them all my life, I can conclude they're not good people._

_Since I could reach the stove (with a foot stool mind you) I had to do all the cooking except when Uncle Vernon had guests over. Did Dudley ever do any chores? No, I had to do everything! Aunt Petunia doesn't even do the cleaning anymore. It's MY job to make the house spic and span. If there's even one smudge of grime in the bathroom, she hits me with a newspaper or sometimes something heavier and orders me to do it all over again. I'm not a house elf!_

_For fuck's sake, those bloody wankers made me sleep in a broom cupboard for the first eleven years of my life. Who does that to a kid? Did Dumbledore even know about it? Or did the fruitloop just look the other way?_

_Don't get me started on my fat cousin! He makes a game with his minions and calls it Harry Hunting! He hits me and I end up with bruises that hurt down to the bone! The worst part about him is that he can hurt me in front of my aunt and uncle and he doesn't get in trouble. Or like the really bad incidents like after Dobby dropped a pudding cake on one of Uncle's guests from Grunnings, he punched me really hard. Or like after the accidental glass vanishing incident at the zoo, he whipped me with his belt and forced me into my cupboard for a month, only letting me out every two days to go to the bathroom._

_But now I have you, Padfoot. You and Moony are all I have left to remember my parents by. And the weird thing is, it's not so much as remembering who they were, but more of trying to acquaint myself with the people who made me. I mean, I appreciate their sacrifice, but I guess I never really knew them. Should they really mean that much to me? There's just so much about them that remains an enigma to me. _

_Anyway, that's not why I'm writing you. Something weird happened to me while I was asleep. I...I don't know how to explain it better than you'd know if you just saw it. So you see, I really need your help. Please come down to Surrey if you can. I need someone and I can't tell anyone._

_Love, Harry_

_P.S, Sorry for ranting about my childhood when I really just wanted to let you know I'd really like to see my godfather. But it does feel kinda good to tell that to someone after bottling that stuff away for years. Er sorry, I'm rambling again..._

Once he, or rather she finished penning the letter to her godfather, Harry slumped back into bed. Hedwig let herself out, cleverly opening the locked window with her free talon. Harry gave a wistful smile at the reproachful look she got when the owl glared at her before taking off.

A hand rested on her chest. Once it had been flat as a board, but now had two fleshy swells anchored by muscle and sinew. A breast that felt strange. Strange, but right. Sure she had always been weird, but how could this feel right?

Shouldn't she be freaking out? Most guys would be panicking at seeing themselves lose their knob. Once the initial shock of waking up a completely different person, she was doing okay. The sudden surge of anxiety had been brief. But after having some time to calm down once the initial shock wore off, Harry kinda liked having long hair. It was really pretty. As a guy, she got made fun of for it. But if she lived as a girl, no one would mind. People might even actually like it!

When she was younger, Harry had tried to get Aunt Petunia to buy her a dress. There had been a scoff and a beating when they had gotten home. She had never brought it up again after that. Harry had always been jealous that women always had more clothing choices than men. More ways to express herself. But she had always been stuck in her cousin's castoffs. Ones that were three or four sizes too big for her and often had to use old ratty belts, staples and anything else she could get her hands on just to prevent her from tripping on them.

Then there was the 'Boy-Who-Has-Too-Many-Hyphenations' business. Since she had turned eleven and found out she was a wizard- witch, everyone knew her for something she really didn't do. A night where her parents died but she didn't. She would trade her fame and celebrity status just to have them back. Perhaps...she didn't need to be Harry Potter anymore...

'_Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to start over, as a witch...' _It was those last thoughts that ran through Harry's head before she drifted off into the land of dreams.

* * *

Sirius Black - 'convicted' mass murderer and all around dark wizard was pissed. Moments ago, he had just finished reading a surprisingly lengthy letter from his godson. His hands were shaking as he held the delicate parchment.

Sure the occasional shiver and twitch was a side effect from twelve years in Azkaban, but this time, it was from the unbridled fury he was experiencing. The letter was a cry for help. Not directly, but it was obvious to a formerly seasoned Auror that this was a case of domestic abuse. And a terrible one at that.

A few feet away, a beautiful snowy owl was watching the rather upset man. She gave an annoyed squawk when the dog man had grabbed her leg without asking. She had pecked his hand and hooted in irritation. She didn't accept the reply until he made a peace offering from his half eaten egg sandwich. Once the wizard had affixed the letter to her leg, she took off.

It had become personal the moment it became involved with Harry. He had known Lily's mundane sister hated magic, but Sirius hadn't thought it to be at a level of zealotry. A horrible woman and her even more shallow husband were hurting his godson. This was beyond unacceptable.

"Those blasted muggles are going to wish they were dead!" he all but snarled, walking towards a hidden alley in which he could start heading back to England. Even though Dumbledore advised against it, it was time to return to London. And from there, to Surrey where he could rescue Harry from his abusers.

* * *

Only a few hours passed when Harry had woken up from her nap. For a moment, she panicked when she saw the breasts on her chest, remembering it hadn't just been a bad dream. "Oh right, I'm a girl now. Great..."

It was something akin to a nightmare when she had to pee, sitting down and unfamiliar organs doing a natural bodily function. She had wiped her crotch and washed her hands with an anxiousness she hadn't experienced before. It'd take time to get used to it, if this was going to be a permanent thing. The quick shower she took was awkward at best. But she did what she needed and dried off. Redressing, she could hear her cousin loping up the stairs. Before Dudley could see her, Harry darted back to her bedroom.

She noticed all too easily that her clothes were even bigger on her than before. Fan-fucking-tastic! She grumbled and dug through her closet and found some older stuff that wouldn't be nearly as long on her.

Just as she finished dressing in tighter clothes, her bedroom door slammed open. Vernon and Petunia were standing out in the hall. She didn't have the chance to dive beneath the covers and there was no way she'd be able to slide under her uncle and her aunt. She was trapped and the cat was out of the bag.

"BOY! YOU QUIT THIS NONSENSE RIGHT NOW!" bellowed Vernon, turning that awful shade of puce when he was extremely angry. Of course his first words to her of the day would be shouted. "I SAID STOP IT OR IT'S THE CUPBOARD FOR YOU!"

"I can't," she argued helplessly, her voice tinged with fear. "I woke up like this. Somehow I got turned into a girl. It just happened overnight. As though it had been caused by magic." Her voice had become hysterical and her hair shifted to match her anxiety and agitation.

The vein on her uncle's forehead turned an even darker shade of purple she didn't think was possible. He managed to snarl as he raised a pudgy hand into the air, "What did I tell you about the M-word?! We do not speak of it in this house! Clearly you haven't learned your lesson. I'll have to correct that immediately, you ungrateful brat."

"Vernon, no!" Cried her horse faced aunt. "They'll know!"

The walrus man gave no heed to his wife and backhanded Harry across the face, knocking the witch to the ground. She tried to get up, but a vicious kick kept her on the floor. A fist collided with her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. And then another followed it.

It hurt. It really did. Those bare fists would be leaving bruises on her body. The tears were coming. She hadn't cried in years because it always made them hit harder. Suffering in silence had been her best defense back before she knew she had magic. But she couldn't help it this time. Something made this time so much worse for some reason. Tears spilled down her pallid cheeks which stung.

Harry's eyes were clenched shut, expecting to be knocked on her ass for a second time when she grabbed onto the edge of her bed. But it never came. When she opened her eyes, Harry saw her older cousin standing in front of the unconscious form. He was retracting a closed fist, indicating he had cold-cocked his father.

Petunia too, was shocked.

"Why?" was all Harry could ask, her voice squeaking in confusion.

Dudley mumbled, "Men don't hit girls or women. S'not the way things are. When you were a bloke, it was what guys do to each other. Dunno how, but you're a girl now. Men are supposed to protect women. Or whatever."

"Where did you learn such things, Dudley?" asked Petunia as she looked between her son and Harry. She knew she was lacking in teaching anyone manners.

With a shrug, the teen replied, "Common sense I guess. Plus, one of my teachers kinda lectured me an my pals earlier this year. We were on a trip and got in trouble for teasing a girl from another school. Piers an I got chewed out and lectured about how to treat girls and ladies. Men aren't supposed to make girls cry."

Smiling weakly, the metamorphmagus said, "Damn, Dudley. That's really mature of you. I never thought you could be anything more than an asshole."

"Shut up," he mumbled.

Her horse faced aunt sniffed, "Your cousin and I'll take care of Vernon. Go take care of the garden. And try to be discreet about whatever is going on with you. Wear a hat or something; I heard it might rain."

Harry merely nodded, tightening her belt so the trousers she wore wouldn't fall off her hips; then headed outside.

* * *

It wasn't really raining, but the early evening sky was rife with roiling black clouds. Ever since Harry had been able to think for herself, she'd discovered that she was quite enjoyed storms. The heavy winds blowing in her hair, the calmness at the center as well as the flashes of lightning illuminating the skies. Today was far more mild than the storms she usually weathered in quidditch matches. Barely even sprinkles.

From the old shed in the backyard, Harry put on a gaudy straw hat that once belonged to her aunt. That paired with putting her color changing hair into a messy bun with an old rubber-band did a decent albeit harassed job into concealing her hair which was currently an incandescent shade of cobalt. The only gloves she could find were an old, ripped pair with holds in most of the fingers and ones near the wrist.

Once she was as geared up as she possibly could for kneeling in the dirt for several hours, the young witch set up her station by the azaleas and the rose bushes. A weathered pvc bucket sat by her hip as she began grabbing weeds by the necks and wrenching them free of the dirt where she dumped them to the side. She used calculated motions to rip the offending weeds from the soft earth, one after another. It quickly became an autonomous chore where she could let her mind wander.

Even though her whole transformation into a girl had greatly startled her, Harry found herself missing something. Not a boyfriend. It'd be a hundred years before she saw another naked guy. No, what was missing was something not so simple as that. A part of her brain just felt empty and she felt it, physically and mentally.

It was an inexplicable sensation, like how she didn't realize how much she needed magic. When she held her wand for the first time, something clicked right inside her. But this new thing. It didn't make sense. Would it be just like the other things in life? That she wouldn't know until she experienced it?

As she reached under one of the rhododendrons, Harry felt a sharp, burning pain on the back of her hand. When she withdrew her limb, she found the jowls of a snake clamped on tightly. She hardly registered it was a deadly species: an adder which was the only venomous snake native to Britain.

"That's rude," she scoffed, not realizing she had slipped into parseltongue.

Upon hearing the brusquely hissed annoyance, the adder unhitched from her hand and apologized, "My most sincere apologies, I knew not you were a ssspeaker. I thought you were just another overlooked human trying to remove me from my den. You should get help before you die."

Harry shrugged and told the simpering snake, "Honestly, it doesn't feel like anything's really happening. I mean, your bite kinda stings, but I've had worse."

It's nictitating eyes shuttered for a moment. "Worse than being bitten by a viper? How could thiss be?"

Rolling up her sleeve with her free hand, Harry told the adder, "Basilisk bite."

She was about to elaborate on how it happened when a euphoric sensation spread from where she had been bitten. Her breathing grew arrhythmic and her cheeks colored. A moan managed to escape her clenched teeth. Harry panted and hissed to the adder. "That was such a rush. Bite me again!"

If a snake could express surprise, the adder would have most definitely doubled back at the request. After a moment of silence, the adder replied, "My apologies once again, sspeaker. I delivered all of my venom in one bite. It could take hours before my glands create more."

Stroking the adder's head with two fingers, she sighed. Disappointment laced her voice, "It's okay. At the very least you helped me discover something that feels really good. You may go."

"Of course, speaker. I go now," answered the snake as it was dismissed. It's long, scaled body disappeared beneath the bushes to assumingly, its den.

Harry sat back in the wet grass, not really caring that her clothes were getting dirty. They were hand me downs anyways. Amidst the dreary weather, the young witch found such a thrilling high in being bitten by lesser snakes. The basilisk's venom didn't do this. Just the agonizing pain and delirium from knocking on death's door. Yet here she was, coming down from a bout of euphoria. Why?

She silently asked herself similar question as she returned to weeding the garden.

* * *

Sunday was a day where Harry needed to be overly cautious. Especially after technically being the cause of why Uncle Vernon was sporting a wicked black eye. So Harry had taken the local bus down to St Alban's library.

The building was nothing too impressive, but it would suit her needs just fine. Harry wandered around the non-fiction sections, trying to find something that would help her discover what was wrong with her, among other things. It took her nearly an hour of of leafing through self-help and medical malfunction manuals. But it was an encyclopedia of known disorders did she find what was festering in her mind since the day before.

The giant book that she had hefted over to a table near the back of the library and becan reading through the table of contents where she then flipped to the relevant pages. What she had been seeking was a subsection under the short three page chapter of _Toxicomania_. Harry's breath caught in her throat as she began to read.

_**Venenamania -**_ _The fascination with poisons and venoms of all kind. One diagnosed does not feel the need to consume or become infected with them, but rather to obsessively collect them. Those diagnosed have shown urges to use them on others. In any situation with a poison or venom is introduced, the diagnosed will be overcome with an uncontrollable urge to go and either study or collect the poison or venom. These urges can grow in power until the user will test out poisons on themselves. Venenamania causes the diagnosed to helplessly gather venoms and poisons without any natural reasons for it. Those with Venenamania often experience possessiveness and unnatural urges._

_In extremely rare cases, some afflicted with this disorder will take an extra step and test poisons and venoms out on themselves with an unholy compulsion. Some will intentionally go seeking venomous creatures just so they can get stung or bitten. One documented case patient admitted that he got an unparalleled high from being bitten by snakes that modern drugs could never hope to replicate._

_If you find yourself obsessed with poisons, contact help IMMEDIATELY._

Under her breath, she muttered, "Freakishness. Another thing to make Uncle Vernon hate me even more. Hope I can keep this under control at home."

Since she was already here at the library, Harry decided she would see if she could find out more about the snake that had bitten her. And she did just that and more. The witch got her hands on a few other books, relating to poisonous plants, venomous creatures and more. Although by the time she was supposed to be home to start dinner, she grumbled. Not having a card for this particular library, she couldn't bring any of the books home with her. It was all for the better because the Dursleys would suspect her no more than usual.

It wasn't until she started heading home to Number Four did she realize she didn't have enough change to take the bus. Thus she had no choice but to take the long route by foot and hoping she wouldn't get stopped by the bobbies. Last thing she needed was to break the Statute of Secrecy because of her color changing hair.

Harry didn't even recognize the little gardening store not even half a block from the library. With the information still fresh in her cranium, the witch wondered if they might even sell plants or seeds of plants that might be poisonous.

Curiosity got the better of her and she wandered inside. A little bell over the door tinkled to announce her arrival. Instead of the earthy scent of dirt and fertilizer, it smelled strongly of incense.

Looking around, she noticed there was no one else in the shop. Not even a security camera to prevent theft. What she did see, was a variety of ferns, bonsai plants and the like. Nothing exceeded the height of the average potted palm tree.

"Hm," she murmured as her feet took her around the area. Harry saw many cat safe domestic plants like ivys, honeysuckles, ferns and bamboo. It wasn't until she reached the back wall which had a rack of seed packets did she find what caught her attention.

_Digitalis purpurea._

She knew this plant. She'd seen an article in one of Aunt Petunia's gardening magazines.

_Foxglove _(Digitalis purpurea_) is an __herbaceous_ _biennial_ _or short-lived perennial plant. The __leaves_ _are spirally arranged, simple, 10–35 cm (3.9–13.8 in) long and 5–12 cm (2–5 in) broad, and are covered with gray-white pubescent and glandular hairs, imparting a woolly texture. The foliage forms a tight rosette at ground level in the first year._

_The flowering stem develops in the second year, typically 1–2 m (3.3–6.6 ft) tall, sometimes longer. The __flowers_ _are arranged in a showy, terminal, elongated cluster, and each flower is tubular and pendent. The flowers are typically purple, but some plants, especially those under cultivation, may be pink, rose, purple, yellow, or white. The inside surface of the flower tube is heavily patterned with varying rosettes or spots. The flowering period is early summer, sometimes with additional flower stems developing later in the season. The plant is frequented by bees, which climb right inside the flower tube to gain the __nectar_ _within._

_The __fruit_ _is a __capsule_ _which splits open at maturity to release the numerous tiny 0.1-0.2 mm __seeds__._

_However, one should be extremely careful in handling these plants as they are dangerous. Every part of the digitalis plant is poisonous. From the leaves to stem, flower and root that are poisonous to humans and some animals if ingested. Symptoms of Digitalis poisoning include a low pulse rate, nausea, vomiting, and uncoordinated contractions of different parts of the heart, leading to cardiac arrest and finally death._

Harry seemed to fall into a trance at the recollection, remembering its apparent toxicity. Poison. It could be hers. It should be hers. '_I need it. It's mine,' _came the incessant thought through the fogginess. She hardly registered taking the seed packets from the shelf and stowing them between her breasts and calmly walking towards the exit.

A heavy eastern accented voice from the other side of the small shop commanded, "Halt, thief!"

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger~**

**Don'tcha just hate me?**


End file.
